You Can't Always Get What You Want
by AndromedaStarr
Summary: Eric Delko learns that you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need. Spelko, mention of Delkaine. Rated M just to be be safe. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Eric Delko learns that you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need. Spelko slash, mention of Delkaine. Rated for, well, slashiness.

**Disclaimers:** You _can't_ always get what you want. If you could, I would own CSI Miami and its characters. Unfortunately, all I do own is the plot.

* * *

Delko stared at the report and tried hard to make sense of it, but his brain just wasn't working. Every time he tried to assimilate the fact that the substance found in the suspect's shoeprint contained silicate, quartz and sodium chloride, his attention would drift away and onto something he should definitely not have been thinking about. Visions of red hair and sunglasses – the Sunglasses of Justice, as Delko had privately named them – flashed behind his eyelids.

Delko couldn't believe it. He had a crush on his boss. He knew it wasn't love or anything like that; he was old enough and wise enough to understand the nuances of emotion. It was just a crush. But still. He had a crush on Horatio Caine. How was that even possible?

"Eric." Speed had entered the lab, fiddling with one of his cuffs. "Sorry I took so long. Thanks for taking over for me. You run the stuff we found in the shoeprint?"

"Uh, yeah." Delko blinked and tried to focus on the report. "Silicate, quartz and trace amounts of sodium chloride."

"Beach sand." Speed cursed and pulled his wrist up to his face, apparently still trying to button the shirt cuff. "Jesus, did this thing shrink in the wash? Eric, gimme a hand here."

Delko reached for the cuff and Speed stepped closer to give him better access. The fabric felt soft; the shirt was silk. The smell of fabric softener and a faint hint of cologne drifted to Delko's nostrils as he pushed the button through the slit in the cuff. "You just take a shower?"

Speed ran a hand through his noticeably damp hair. "You got a talent for stating the obvious?"

"Silk shirt, just showered..." Delko frowned. "You got a date?"

Speed raised an eyebrow. "If I had a date, I'd be borrowing money from you right now because they raised the rent on my apartment." He took the report and studied it. "So how does beach sand get to the bathroom mat of a high-rise fifteen miles from the sea?"

"On somebody's shoe?"

"Funny." Speed glanced over at him. "You okay? You look a little...scattered."

"Yeah, I'm fine." The line felt flat, as he'd known it would. Delko sighed. "You ever have feelings for someone you're not supposed to have feelings for?"

Speed's reaction to that was sudden and surprising. His face closed completely, and he straightened up, shoulders tightening. "What do you mean, not supposed to have feelings for? Married woman, something like that?"

"Not exactly. I mean like...something that could cause workplace problems."

"You mean like Yelina."

Delko stared. "What?"

"Well, nobody cares if CSIs or lab techs date each other, so it's gotta be a superior. If it's not Yelina, it's gotta be Horatio." Speedle pulled up a stool. "So which is it?"

"Oh man." Delko gave a half-laugh, and put a hand to his forehead. "Look, it's not a big thing. It's just a...a crush."

"Who's it on?"

Delko shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Forget it. Hey, I hear Opium's having a big night tonight. You want to go?"

Club Opium was the newest and hottest club in Miami. It was famous for wild pounding music, an overtly sexual atmosphere and the deadliest and most delicious cocktails in the entire state. Delko had been once and was dying to go back. There was something freeing about being in the midst of a dancefloor, deaf from the music and blind from the lights and having to rely purely on touch. The anonymity of being just one of many made him feel alive.

"Yeah," Speed said. "Sure. But how are you getting there? You totaled your car."

Delko winced. He had had a disagreement with a tree a week ago and his prized MX-5 was now in a garage, waiting to be put back together by a couple of mechanics Delko knew personally. They were the only people he trusted to work on his baby.

"I noticed," he said wryly.

"I can give you a ride."

Delko's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding me, right? You think I'm getting on that bike with you?"

"Hey, I get into the Miata with you. Well, got," Speed amended. "You'll be fine, Eric. I'm a responsible rider."

"You tell that to all the girls?"

Speed held up the report. "Since you're clearly in no mood to concentrate on work, I'm going to check in on Valera to see what she found in the blood samples and then I'm going to run everything by Horatio. You can feel free to catch up when you get your head out of your ass."

Delko couldn't help but grin. Speed had a dryness about him that made him amusing even – no, especially – when he was trying not to be. "Give me a couple minutes. I'm gonna call the mechanics, get the verdict on the car. I'll find you."

* * *

Speed was in the elevator when Delko ran into him again. "That took a little longer than a couple of minutes."

"Yeah." Delko checked his watch. It had been nearly forty-five minutes. Apparently his car wasn't in as good shape as he'd thought. "I'm not gonna have the Miata for three weeks."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it." Delko sighed, and reluctantly, asked, "Ten o'clock?"

Speed glanced over at him. "Not afraid I'll kill you?"

Delko studied his friend and decided that Speed was actually one of the more attractive people in his life. He somehow managed to be enigmatic, charming and a complete gentleman while retaining the aroma all women seemed to love – _eau de_ bad boy. Maybe it was the badge and the gun. Maybe it was the motorbike. Maybe it was the unshaven face, the half-closed eyes, the low rasp of the voice. Who knew?

"I trust you," Delko said.

Speed gave a quick, feral baring of teeth that only a mountain cat would have dared to call a smile. "You sure that's wise?"

Second thoughts instantly raced through Delko's mind. He pushed them away. "I trust you," he said again. "Besides, if you kill me, you have to train a whole new CSI from scratch." He smiled as the elevator doors opened. "See you at ten."


	2. Chapter 2

Delko took another sip of his drink and tried for the third time to remember exactly what was in it. The alcohol wasn't helping to chase the adrenaline from his blood. And why was adrenaline in his blood? Because Speed was _not_ a responsible rider.

Speed had a Ducati. Delko didn't know the model or the specs, but he knew it roared like the devil and it raced down the Miami streets at approximately the velocity of a bat out of hell. _This_, Delko had reflected as Speed had brought the bike out of a turn and cranked the throttle wide open, _must be what a bullet fired from a gun feels like_. Responsible? Hardly. Insane? Very probably.

When Delko hadn't been clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut, however, the ride had allowed him to notice details about Speed. The way his hair curled at his hairline at the back of his neck, for example. The one freckle that dotted the skin just below and behind his right ear. The way his body seemed to become one with the bike. Hell, Delko's body had practically become one with Speed's after a few of those stops.

Speaking of Speed...Delko glanced around, but couldn't see his friend. Probably on the dancefloor. Speed was a notorious dancer. He made a big show of not liking to dance, but he was incredibly good at it nonetheless. Delko remembered a conversation he'd had once with one of Speed's exes, a blonde girl with a slightly dippy personality who had spent easily five minutes gushing about the way Speed moved.

Delko poured the rest of the drink down his throat and shuddered as the alcohol hit him. Far from feeling thrilled, he was confused. Horatio was still on his mind. He wondered what it would be like to dance with Horatio to the kind of music they played at Opium, and smiled to himself. There was no way H would ever find himself on this kind of dancefloor.

A dark-haired girl swaying to the music at the edge of the crowd grinned lasciviously at him, but he wasn't in the mood. He gave a slight smile in return and sat back in the booth.

"Eric!" came a faint voice, and Delko glanced up to see Speed standing there. His white shirt glowed under the blacklights. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. "What are you doing?"

Delko held up his empty glass. "Drinking," he yelled in return, feeling his vocal cords strain with the effort to be heard.

"It's empty," Speed shouted. "I'll get you another one." He took the glass from Delko's hand and disappeared into the throng of bodies.

The girl was looking at him. She raised an eyebrow, beckoned. He shook his head. She stretched out a hand to him, curled her fingers in a come-hither motion. Again he shook his head. He didn't know why, except that Speed was supposed to be getting him a drink.

Speed pushed his way in from the dancefloor, a half-full cocktail glass held high above the moving people. The other half of Delko's drink was all down the front of his shirt. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, and pulled at the wet fabric. "If you want the rest of your drink, you'll have to lick it off me."

Delko nearly choked. "It's okay," he said, but his eyes were on the shirt and the way it adhered to every curve and hollow of Speed's chest. There was something undeniably erotic in the way it concealed and revealed, the way the fabric clung to and lifted from his skin as he moved.

Speed was asking him something. "What?" Delko shouted.

"I said, I'm going back out." Speed nodded to the dancefloor. "Are you coming?"

Delko looked over at the girl, who was now looking slightly wounded by his apparent rejection. She was wearing heavy eye makeup and had a series of tiny crystals trailing down her cheeks from the corners of her eyes, but she was pretty. And she was wearing leather pants. Tight leather pants.

"Yeah," Delko said, and got up. "I'm coming."

The girl curved seductively against his chest, but Delko took her by the hand and pulled her deeper into the crowd to where Speed was talking to a blonde in a miniskirt. "What's your name?" the dark-haired girl yelled into his ear.

"Eric."

"I'm Tanya." She slid her arms around her neck and ground her pelvis into his at the same time that the blonde turned around and leaned back into Speed.

Delko felt the sultry throb of the music in his lower abdomen. He didn't know what was turning him on more, the girl who was arching against him or the way Speed's body was twisting and gyrating. He gripped Tanya's hips, sinking his fingers into the millimetre or so of flesh, and changed the rhythm of their movements to something slow and timeless.

Speed was looking at him, even as he pressed up against the blonde in front of him. Delko couldn't believe how badly he wanted to believe what he thought he saw in Speed's dark eyes.

Tanya turned around and plastered her back against Delko's chest, which put her face to face with the blonde who was dancing with Speed. Mere seconds had passed before the two girls were kissing. Delko, who could only stare mutely, thought he had never been more aroused in his life. He looked up from the girls into Speed's eyes. This time, the invitation was unmistakable.

Delko swallowed. His throat was suddenly dry. He edged out from behind Tanya, who barely seemed to notice. Heat radiated from the dancers around them. The dancefloor was packed and the people pulsed in time to the beat of the music. Delko fed off the energy. It allowed him to be bold. He tilted his head in Speed's direction in a wordless request.

Speed turned sideways, and Delko stepped up behind him. Speed's body was hot against his chest. He laid his hands tentatively on Speed's waist and then said to hell with it and pulled him back against him.

"Eric." Speed's voice reached him. There was a note of concern in it, and perhaps one of nervousness as well. "Are you drunk?"

Delko bent his mouth to Speed's ear. "Nope." He tilted his hips forward, which had the effect of letting Speed feel his erection up close and personal. "I want you," he said, his speech slurred with desire, aware that he wasn't helping to convince anyone that he wasn't drunk and not caring. And far from being freaked out or otherwise disturbed, Speed rubbed himself against Delko, practically purring. Delko wrapped his arms around the shorter man's waist and licked a droplet of sweat from Speed's temple. "Kiss me."

Speed turned his head and their mouths collided. He tasted like sweet rum and something fruity. Delko attacked Speed's mouth with fervour, wanting to taste as much as he could in case this was all he was going to get. Speed, far from withdrawing from the aggression, turned around within the circle of Delko's arms and the kiss became what might as well have been sexual assault.

Delko slid his hands down Speed's back and gripped his ass, pulling him closer. Speed made an indistinct noise deep down in his chest, the vibration coming through in his lips. He felt something else as well – Speed was hard. He had to make a decision, and fast.

Delko tore his mouth from Speed's and leaned down to his ear. "Do you want to go?"

Speed looked up at him, hair awry, dark eyes almost shut, sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his body. Delko had never seen anything sexier in his life. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

* * *

Leaving the nightclub was like stumbling into a dream. Delko knew all too well how it felt when the door closed and amputated you from the music that had become part of your body. The silence was deafening. The darkness outside was broken only by hazy streetlights that seemed to be dimmer around Opium than in any other part of Miami, although perhaps that was only a side-effect of exposure to the disco lights they used in the club.

Speed was already headed for the bike. Delko followed, feeling oddly numb. His entire body ached with desire – his brain just couldn't process any other sensation.

"Eric." Speed handed him the helmet.

"Thanks." Delko's own voice seemed to come from far away. Temporary hearing loss was common at clubs, and nobody could spend more than ten minutes in Opium without suffering some. That was part of its charm; it was loud enough that you couldn't hear yourself think, and so much of what went on there happened purely on instinct and without any sort of consideration.

"Um, where are we going?" Speed asked.

Delko didn't care. Anywhere he could have his way with Speed was fine by him. "Your place is closer," was what he said.

Speed nodded, and Delko slid his arms around Speed's waist as he twisted the throttle wide open and they peeled out of there as though they had somewhere to be.


	3. Chapter 3

They took the stairs to Speed's second-floor apartment, which was its usual astounding mess. Clothes were strewn across the bed, books piled haphazardly on the coffee table. A red iPod nano occupied a position of honour on the pillow.

Speed cleared the iPod and a couple pairs of jeans from the bed and looked around somewhat awkwardly. His shirt had dried between Opium and the apartment, but that didn't make a difference. He was still gorgeous. Delko couldn't understand how he'd never noticed it before. How had he managed to spend long days in the lab with Speed and develop a crush on Horatio?

Delko had been to the apartment before, but this time was different. He was here in a different capacity, and so he took his time exploring. He moved through the room as though it were his own, unabashedly going through the items of Speed's personal life. Speed, for his part, stood silently by the bed and watched as Delko picked up a paperback and flicked through the pages before dropping it, moving instead to the cupboard, which he opened. He reached inside, fingering the soft fabric of a shirt. He drifted over to the bedside table and ran his thumb absently over the bristles of Speed's hairbrush.

"Eric," Speed said quietly.

Delko glanced up. They were standing on opposite sides of the bed. He couldn't help but wonder if the seduction on the dancefloor had happened at all, or whether it had all been a dream. His eyes followed Speed's torso, remembering the way the wet shirt had caressed the contours of the chest beneath it. Nope. Definitely not a dream.

"You scared?" Delko asked suddenly.

Speed didn't answer immediately. He slid his hands into his pockets and moved to the window, leaning against the wall next to it. A faint breeze stirred his hair ever so slightly. "Not scared," he said at last, and turned to look back at Delko. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I want you."

Speed exhaled, closing his eyes. "Are you going to hate me in the morning?"

"It is the morning."

"You know what I mean."

Delko admired his friend's profile. The lips were what caught his attention this time. Speed had a sweet, sweet mouth. Delko remembered kissing it, and the blood began to pool in his groin. "No. I'm not going to regret this."

"How do you know that?" Speed turned away from the window and leaned back on the wall, arms by his sides. "I just don't want you doing something and then you can't look me in the eye after and I have to explain to H why my best friend suddenly can't work with me."

Delko tried to speak, but there was just something about the way Speed looked leaning against the wall. The way the white shirt brought out the light tan of his skin and the darkness of his hair and eyes. Those sleepy, sexy eyes. When Speed was off the clock and on his own time, he was a completely different person. Every movement was lithe and graceful, every pore of his being oozed pure sensuality. A sensuality that Delko could no longer ignore. When the words came, his voice was rough. "I'm _not_ going to regret this," he managed, as decisively as he could. "I want you."

"I'll let you have me," Speed said softly.

Delko's heart skipped a beat at the sheer submissiveness in Speed's voice, but he didn't for one moment think that Speed was just going to roll over and play dead. "Come here."

Speed moved to the end of the bed, then swiveled toward the dresser, looking at Delko in the mirror. "I saw the way you looked at me when I spilled your drink on my shirt. You wanted to touch me." He lifted his hands to the neck of his shirt and began unbuttoning it slowly. "Did you like how it felt when we danced?"

Delko's mouth was dry. He didn't think he could speak. Instead, he nodded mutely.

Speed undid the last button and the shirt fluttered open, revealing his chest. He was smaller than Delko, and somehow that was wildly attractive. Delko wanted more than anything to run his hands over Speed's collarbones, to see the contrast of their skins. He knew how Speed's skin would look against his own – like whipped cream on a latte. Speed trailed his hands up his chest and brushed his palms over the dusky circles of his nipples. His eyelids fell shut, eyelashes a smudge of ink against his cheeks. Heat pooled low in Delko's body.

"You've seen me shirtless before," Speed said casually, eyes still closed. "Half-changed in the lockers, or if you got here too early for a night out. But it's different now, isn't it?"

Delko watched, transfixed. He couldn't have looked away if he'd tried. He drank in the details of Speed, the muscles of his back, the flat stomach, the dark trail of hair that began at his navel and disappeared into his jeans. The one vein that ran the length of his bicep. Speed's hand drifted slowly down his stomach and undid the button on his jeans.

Delko crossed the room in a second and was standing behind Speed, his hands on his wrists. Speed opened his eyes lazily, not at all surprised. Delko pulled Speed back against him, ducking his head to inhale against his face, and reached down. His breathing was a harsh hiss as he lowered the zipper of Speed's jeans. Delko himself was wearing ordinary slacks, so hiding his own arousal was not an option – and he was incredibly turned on. He slid his palm down Speed's abdomen, feeling heat and hardness beneath the denim. Delko looked at himself in the mirror as he stroked Speed's erection, saw Speed's chest rise and fall as his breathing quickened and roughened. Delko thought he would come in his pants just watching it.

He withdrew his hand and Speed's eyes opened immediately. "Off," Delko said shakily, motioning to the jeans. He didn't think he could trust himself to speak in full sentences.

Speed knocked Delko's hands aside from where they had been fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and undid the first two easily. Stepping forward, he closed the distance between them and brought his mouth down on the base of Delko's throat. His tongue slipped into the depression between the collarbones, teeth just lightly grazing the flesh even as his fingers worked on the buttons.

Delko felt like he would explode. He ripped open the rest of his shirt, shrugged it off and jabbed Speed in the centre of his chest with one finger. "No games." His voice was trembling. He didn't care. "No games, Speed."

Speed held up both hands in what might have been surrender. "No games."

Delko gave him a light push and Speed fell backward onto the bed, dark hair just visible in the V of his open jeans. Delko's breath caught in his throat. He climbed onto the bed, a knee on either side of Speed, and crushed their mouths together, one hand with a tight grip on Speed's hair, the other sliding into his jeans to resume its earlier action.

Speed's hips jerked forward suddenly, and he bit down on Delko's lower lip, almost drawing blood. "God," he hissed. "Right there."

Delko grappled with Speed's jeans. Christ, the man was packing. Delko didn't have his ruler, but he was pretty sure that was well above average. He pulled Speed's jeans down and made quick work of his own pants.

They were a furiously tumbling tangle of limbs that splayed every which way across the bed, hands and mouths everywhere, backs arching and epithets hissing from slack lips. Bodily fluids sprayed between them multiple times and neither cared to clean up. Chances were that nobody would notice a couple extra stains on Speed's sheets anyway.

Delko eventually stopped when the aching of his muscles became too much to bear, and rolled off of Speed with a grunt. Speed sat up, retrieved a Kleenex from a box on the bedside table, and leaned over. Delko, who had exactly zero energy left in him, was still trying to catch his breath. Speed cleaned them both up and lay back on the bed, clearly exhausted. It was a couple minutes before either of them could speak.

"It's H, isn't it?"

Delko's brain strained to put the question in context. Belatedly he remembered his crush on his redheaded boss. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Mm." That seemed to be the extent of Speed's speech capabilities.

Delko turned his head and looked at his friend. "So what now?"

Speed shrugged. "I don't know."

"Technically, we didn't have sex."

"_Very_ technically."

Delko sighed and settled himself a little more comfortably on the bed. "That was nice."

"Nice?" Speed raised an eyebrow. "You just came five times in two hours."

"Five? That's not fair. You got six."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who has to wash your, ah, biologicals out of my hair."

Delko had to admit that that was a very good point. He looked up at the ceiling. Life was a funny thing. The day had started off with him trying to come to terms with having a thing for Horatio and it seemed that it was going to end with him trying to come to terms with having had a near-sex experience with his best friend. Needless to say, this was not at all what he had expected.

But if you put it in perspective, this could be a good thing. He was attracted to Speed – the fact that Speed had just given him five orgasms might have had something to do with that, but if he were honest with himself, he'd been attracted to Speed long before that – and Speed was attracted to him. Hell, they'd just ravaged each other mercilessly without a care in the world.

"Eric."

Delko glanced over. "Yeah?"

"What about Horatio?"

"What about Horatio?"

"You want him."

Delko didn't deny it. "You can't always get what you want," he said, rolling onto his side and studying Speed's contented face. He leaned down and gave the swollen lips a tender kiss. "But if you try sometimes –"

Speed smiled. "– you just might find –"

"– you get what you need." Delko touched Speed's mouth, overcome by the strangest feeling of gentleness. It might have been a quote from a Rolling Stones song, but that didn't stop it from being perfectly true. This had been exactly what he needed.

"And am I what you need?"

Delko smiled. "You are, Speed, exactly what I need."


End file.
